


Beatus

by Lomonaaeren



Series: Advent Fics 2014 [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-27 00:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2671616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lomonaaeren/pseuds/Lomonaaeren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron brings news that he thinks will impress or at least move Draco, but he doesn’t know Draco as well as he thinks he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beatus

**Author's Note:**

> An Advent fic for the request of person958, who asked for a Christmas fic set in the universe of my story “The Fortunate Fall.” Read that before reading this. The title is a Latin word meaning, variously, “blessed, fortunate, happy.”

“Mate! Er, hello, Malfoy.”  
  
Draco kept his head bowed to hide his smile. He knew that Weasley would never be as comfortable around Draco as he was with Harry. The most amusing thing about this moment was that Weasley had actually mistaken Draco, blond head and scarred cheek and all, for Harry when he burst through the door of Harry’s house.  
  
“Hello, Weasley,” said Draco. He kept his voice mild and friendly when he looked up, too. He and the Weasleys had achieved an understanding, of sorts. He knew they would probably never think that he was good enough for Harry, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that he and they could agree on certain provisions of their truce, and as long as those provisions were respected, neither of them had to bother the other.  
  
“Is Harry around?” Weasley was scratching the back of his neck, looking from the fireplace Draco had been tending to the Christmas tree—one of Harry’s special trees from his garden, of course, growing green and vibrant in a pot of rich dark soil, strung with tinsel and fairy lights—leaning against one wall. He never let his eyes rest on Draco’s scarred cheek for more than a second.  
  
“Not right now. He said that he had an order of flowers to pick up at an apothecary.” Draco didn’t tend to pay that much attention to Harry’s gardening business when he shouted it over his shoulder on the way out the door. “He’ll probably be back in a little while, though, if you want to wait for him.”  
  
“I should,” said Weasley, and then left the sentence unfinished, although Draco did see him look over his shoulder at the door. “No, damn it.” He faced Draco. “This message is for you, Malfoy.”  
  
“Message?” Unable to help it, Draco delicately spread his hands. “Weasley, I  _am_ standing right here, you know.”  
  
Weasley ignored him, and kept on speaking. “We think we may know who cursed you.”  
  
Draco hadn’t lost his breath like that in a long, long time. It made him lose the words that he would have liked to speak to Weasley, to make him stop and think about this instead of continue on. Instead, he stared at Weasley in a kind of daze, and Weasley leaned forwards and spoke intently, softly, the way he wouldn’t have done with Harry around.   
  
“The Aurors were following up a report of a rogue Death Eater. Someone  _insisted_ they saw the Dark Mark above a house last night, and, well, it’s a long shot, but I still have friends in the Ministry, and they told me all about the case. No evidence of the Dark Mark, but apparently someone did try to curse a woman with a scar just like yours. She fought, and he ran away because her husband was coming, but it was the same spell. They’re sure of it. They described your scar to her, and she said that sounded perfectly like it.”  
  
For a second, Draco’s world swam. He imagined being able to walk out into the street without sneers and sidelong glances. He imagined being able to go into perfectly normal Muggle places without the glamour that was necessary now because Muggles would recognize the injury at a glance as something not really natural. He imagined all sorts of things, and his heart pounded and his head spun.  
  
Then he took in a deep breath and said sharply, “The wizard who attacked her described what he was going to do to her?”  
  
Weasley frowned a little, as though he couldn’t imagine what that had to do with anything. “He was going to curse her on her chest, not on her face. But the spell was the same.”  
  
“ _He_ described it?” It was an effort for Draco to speak. Just knowing that the same wizard who had cursed him might be running around hurt his throat. He licked his lips and whispered, “It’s a spell that’s unique, and has a Permanence Charm on it, or someone would have found a way to remove it by now. I need to know if this is the same thing.”  
  
“It’s the same spell.” Weasley was glancing towards the door as though he wondered when Harry was coming back. “Will you come with me to talk to the Aurors who talked to her or not?”  
  
Draco lifted his head. “I need to know what’s going on. Your description is vague and confused.”  
  
Weasley stared at him with his mouth open, and then seemed to have peered too deeply into Draco’s scar—maybe the part where you could almost see teeth through the skin—and looked hastily away again. “I thought you’d  _jump_ at the chance! Why don’t you come talk to us?”  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. “Because the wizard who cursed me has never been seen since. He didn’t brag about his crime to anyone. He either didn’t go after anyone else or didn’t use the same tactics if he did. Excuse me for thinking that there’s just as great a chance that this is  _isn’t_ a case like mine.” He watched as Weasley turned red, and added quietly, “I don’t doubt you because you’re a Weasley. I doubt you because the coincidence seems to be too great.”  
  
Weasley shook his head. “But if there’s even a small chance that it’s the same wizard, you need to come! It would make a great Christmas present for Harry.”  
  
Draco blinked, feeling that it was too hard to keep up with Weasley’s rapid changes of mood. “The information from you would make him a great present?”  
  
“No, curing your face would!” Weasley leaned forwards and touched Draco’s shoulder. “I know that you’re not as sensitive to it anymore, and neither is Harry, and that’s great. But you need to realize, he still could flinch from it.”  
  
“As it happens, that’s not true.”  
  
Draco thought his own voice might have spoken. He’d never had cause, since he and Harry had got together and Harry had started persuading him to go bare-faced out in public, that Harry really did love him and didn’t care about the scar. He had grown confident again in large part because of Harry’s love, and Harry’s reassurance that he was more than just his face.  
  
But it was Harry’s voice, and he was coming into the room from the corridor behind Weasley and nodding to Draco in interest before he fixed his eyes on Weasley. “You think you have some means to remove the Permanence Charm?”  
  
Draco moved to stand beside Harry. Harry slung an arm around his shoulders and turned his head to kiss Draco right on the scar. Draco relaxed. The gesture had reassured him as nothing else could.  
  
“No, we think we might have caught the wizard who did it to him,” Weasley said, his words stumbling over each other in his haste to say them. “Or have word of him. It’s a similar case.”  
  
“But not identical,” said Harry. Draco smiled against his shoulder. He loved the way that Harry could be so sure of that, even though he hadn’t been there to hear the entire conversation. It was a way of saying that he was sure of Draco and he knew that Draco was protesting for a reason, and Draco loved him for it.  
  
“Not identical,” Weasley admitted. It sounded grudging. “That doesn’t mean that it’s not a good lead, though!”  
  
“It might be a good lead,” said Harry, so thoughtful that Draco held his breath for a moment before Harry went on. “But it’s not solid. And I can understand Draco not wanting to expend one drop more of effort on this than he has to. He’s moved on, and he’s at peace with his life. Firecall us when you have a name or a way to remove the Permanence Charm.”  
  
Draco smiled at Harry. “You find a way to put things into words that I can’t,” he told him, and kissed him on the cheek. He had at last begun to accept that the contrast between Harry’s unscarred face and his own scarred one wasn’t important to Harry, and to cease to feel jealous of the smooth skin under his lips when he did that.  
  
“ _Draco_  doesn’t want to do anything you don’t want him to, you mean,” Weasley said, and shook his head. “I never thought I’d see the day when he practically followed your orders, Harry.”  
  
“Harry helped me heal and come back to myself,” Draco countered, and for once he thought he was investing his words with the sort of quiet dignity he admired rather than trying and only managing an imitation of his father’s. Or Harry’s, for that matter. “That doesn’t mean he controls my actions.”  
  
“And I sort of dislike that you implied I did, Ron,” Harry added, frowning at his friend.  
  
“I only  _meant_ ,” Weasley said, and threw up his hands. “You know what? Forget it. I came here thinking I would be polite and helpful and all the rest of it, and you don’t even want to heal your face.”  
  
“I want to,” Draco said, and felt a tide of the old longing flood him. “But I’m all right not being able to do it. And chasing a rumor down isn’t enough for me. Like Harry said, if you have solid information, I’d welcome it. Just not shadows and rumors.”  
  
Weasley stayed a little longer, but he appeared to be embarrassed, mumbling in response to Harry’s good-natured questions about his wife and family, and departing as soon as he could. Harry sat down on the couch when he’d gone, and laughed hard, his face buried in his hands.  
  
Draco eyed him. “And what’s that for?”  
  
Harry sat back up, grinning. “Only that I think I know why he was so disappointed about not being able to get us to act on that information, and it doesn’t have much to do with you.” He reached out and stroked Draco’s hair. “He thought this was some kind of gift to me, and now he’ll have to get me a different Christmas present.”  
  
Draco felt his mouth fall open a little. It was a motive he would have attributed to a few of his casual friends in Slytherin, but not to Weasley, who had always seemed so close to Harry. “Really?”  
  
“Well, he thought he was doing a good deed,” said Harry, and pulled Draco onto the couch, and leaned them together in such a way that it would be awkward for Draco to get up. “He doesn’t understand that I can accept you the way you are. I think he believes I live each day thinking of ways to cure your scar.”  
  
Draco shook his head and stretched out beside Harry. “Well, at least his coming here taught me one thing, if not how to remove the scar.”  
  
“What’s that?” Harry’s hand was clasped possessively on top of his shoulder. He tightened it as though he thought Draco would stand up and stalk around the room to announce the lesson.  
  
Draco smiled. “That Gryffindors can be as selfish and self-motivated as Slytherins.”  
  
Harry snorted. “House stereotypes, at your age?”  
  
“Weasley thinking that you spend every day looking for ways to remove my scar, at this stage in our relationship?”  
  
“True.” Harry pulled Draco further towards him and kissed his cheek. He didn’t always do that, and when he did, didn’t make a point of it, but Draco understood why he was doing it now, and honored him for it.  
  
“It’ll be great if we can,” Harry whispered to him. “It’ll be great if we never do. This is you. I love you the way you are.”  
  
Draco wasn’t good with words. He could tighten his hand around Harry’s waist, though, and he did, and they watched the crackling of the fire until it was time for dinner.  
  
 _I don’t have a way to remove the scar,_ Draco thought, as he helped Harry to his feet and watched the shine in his eyes,  _but I have something as precious._  
  
 **The End.**  


End file.
